


Nothing Quite Like the Feel Of Something New

by mickeym



Category: Popslash
Genre: Bloodplay, Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, erotic cutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-02
Updated: 2003-09-02
Packaged: 2017-10-09 01:50:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/pseuds/mickeym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>JC wants to try something new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Quite Like the Feel Of Something New

 

_i just found everything i need.  
the sweat in your eyes the blood in your veins are listening to me.  
well i want to wrap it up and swim in it until i drown.  
-Nine Inch Nails 'The Only Time'_

It begins as a sort of dare.

"I think I'd like it." JC watches Chris shaving, eyes following each stroke of the razor. "You like it. Why can't I try it?" Chris looks into the mirror and meets JC's eyes, his own at once smiling and derisive, comforting and predatory. He watches JC straighten when he smirks, body tightening defensively. "I want to. I think I'd like it."

"You couldn't take it," Chris says, reaching to flick at one erect nipple. It's cool in the room, and JC's body is rippled with gooseflesh, both nipples drawn up tight. He flicks his fingers against it again and feels JC move into the sensation. "I don't think you'd like it."

"I could. Can. C'mon, Chris. Show me-show me." JC steps closer to Chris, takes his hand and guides the razor to his own throat. "Please," he whispers, and that soft, breathy sound makes things coil low in Chris' belly, makes his blood percolate.

"Persistent bastard, aren't you?" The razor - straight razor, not a pussy-assed safety razor - hovers a scant millimeter above JC's skin, and Chris can almost see it biting in, moist red appearing across smooth pale. He licks his lips and jerks his hand away, reaches for the towel hanging nearby and wipes the rest of the shaving cream from his face. That can wait. JC doesn't move. Stays there, head back, eyes closed. Waiting, throat bared. Chris licks his lips again and touches the edge of the blade just under his jawline, a quick, tiny flick of his wrist. JC flinches once, whimpers when Chris leans in and closes his mouth over it, sucking hard so it bruises a bit right around it.

Hot metal taste in his mouth. He cuts JC again, another quick flick of his wrist, a small slice into tender skin. JC wiggles back against him and Chris pinches his nipple with his free hand. "Be still."

"Hurts." JC breathes the word out slowly, carefully. Chris imagines he can feel the razorblade right near his throat. "Chris--"

"It's supposed to. But it feels good, too, doesn't it? Afterward? All hot and achy, tingling all through you?" Chris draws the blade very slowly, lightly, down JC's neck. Not deep, not at all. Just enough to pull a moist, red line up to the surface. JC whimpers softly and Chris can feel his heart race beneath where his hand rests.

"Yes." The word is drawled out in multiple syllables, JC's heart pounding in time with each one. "I think--I like it. I think." JC speaks quietly, hardly moving, and Chris smiles at him in the mirror. It's not a happy smile; it's predatory, hungry, and he feels JC's reaction to it in the hitch of his breathing, the way his heart seems to stutter, then race. JC breathes out, "More?" and in spite of this not being Chris' thing, being the one wielding the razor, his body throbs in response.

He cuts lower, away from JC's throat, bringing red lines up across his collar bones. One cut is deeper than the rest, red droplets welling up and spilling over, and Chris leans in and licks them away, one at a time, holding JC's gaze with his, in the mirror. When he looks at himself again, his lips are stained crimson, his eyes huge and dark, contrasting vividly.

"How much do you like it?" Chris mouths the cut again, licking and sucking, and JC shudders against him. "Hmm? You hard?" He slides one hand down over the flat belly, over the denim tented out at JC's groin, then smiles and sucks again. "Kinky little boy, aren't you?"

"You're the one cutting me." JC shudders again when Chris rubs slowly over his cock, pressing down on the head, making the heavy fabric drag over the sensitive skin beneath.

"Yeah, but we know I like pain...didn't know so much about you, did we?" Chris squeezes gently. "Bet you'd look pretty with your legs spread... cuts all over your thighs... red on white." He bites JC, right over one of the cuts on his neck, and smiles at JC's groan.

He draws the razor very lightly down JC's chest, circles around one nipple with the tip. JC holds his breath, and Chris can see him watching in the mirror, waiting for the red to well up. He feels the tremors running through JC's body, a fine, continuous quiver. "So hot," he breathes, then bites into tender, tender skin, just under the areola. JC makes a hoarse sound low in his throat, and tenses, but doesn't move. "You hurt so pretty, C." He repeats it on the other nipple, then steps back, watching as several droplets slide downward; red tears staining JC's chest.

He sets the razor on the counter for the moment, swings himself around in front of JC. Wide, glazed eyes meet his and Chris smiles, hunger throbbing through him. "Pretty," he mutters again, before leaning in to lick at the red, suckling first the cuts, then JC's nipples. He bites down on each one in turn, tugging with his teeth until JC's writhing slowly against him, hands coming up to rest on Chris' shoulders.

"Please," he whispers. "It hurts, but--please, Chris."

"You want more?" Another long, slow lick around one nipple before Chris sucks it back into his mouth, pulling hard. JC moans something that might be yes, but Chris isn't ready to let go yet. He sucks again, again, fingers working now at the other nipple, sliding through the slickness still dripping slowly. When he releases the first nipple, it's hard, distended, flushed a deep, dark rose color. The tiny nick has stopped bleeding.

He finds the other with his mouth, the taste of blood hot and metallic in his mouth, making hunger and need curl tightly in his stomach, making his own blood run faster through his veins. JC shudders and leans into him, and Chris watches as JC closes his eyes and plays with the other nipple himself, fingers twisting, pulling, tugging. _Motherfucker, that's hot,_ he thinks, then sucks again, swallowing the metallic taste, a bit of JC. Making JC a part of him.

Both nipples are red-hot and intensely swollen when Chris leans back. JC's shivering continuously, fingers moving restlessly over the cuts, over his ribs, down his belly and over his sides. When he opens his eyes to look at Chris, they're hot, glazed over with something between lust and a need so intense Chris can feel it in his own belly, a knife twisting within him. He picks the razor back up and pushes JC gently. "Bed," he says quietly. "And take your jeans off."

JC shucks the jeans off without comment while Chris pulls the comforter and blankets back, then lays back on their bed, propping himself up on pillows. His legs are spread, cock hard between them. Chris swallows, tastes blood, and licks his lips. He can taste it there, too, still.

"How far," he asks softly, standing over JC. "How much would you let me do? How far can I go?" He draws circles around JC's nipples with his fingertips, catches one in a quick, hard pinch. JC gasps and growls, teeth bared at him. Chris smiles, an imitation of JC's. "Kinky bitch. You know you like it." He does it again and laughs, short and sharp, when JC arches into the sensation. "How far will you go, C? How much is too much? Could I keep cutting you and bleeding you and have you beg for more?"

JC gasps. "Y-yes. Maybe?" His voice is hoarse, tight, his body thrumming beneath Chris' hand. "I--yes. Please."

"Stomach?" Chris draws the blunt end of the razor in a slow, cool line down JC's stomach, tracing around his navel. JC's skin crawls, like parts of him are trying to reach up, out, gather the sensation in. Chris smiles and turns the razor over, makes a quick, stinging line going around the shallow indent. "How far, C? Tell me."

"Stomach...legs..." JC bites his lip and Chris figures the cut stings now, a light, waving bit of fire. "C--"

"Cock?" Blunt end again, right across the top of JC's pubes, dark curls no barrier at all. JC pants out softly,

"No...maybe-N-no." He moans softly when Chris draws a shallow, stinging line across the top, instead, just above the tangle of coarse hair, one hand splayed over JC's belly, holding him lightly. His chest rises and falls quickly, breathless pants. "You'd spoil your own fun, doing that-" He squirms but doesn't move. Chris barks out a laugh then leans in and licks over the moist, red line.

"Not gonna cut your cock. That's just all kinds of wrong." And he wouldn't. Even if JC asked him to. That's a whole other thing beyond pain, beyond masochism, beyond anything Chris is familiar with. Right now, JC's just testing waters. Testing boundaries. Pushing a bit. Which is fine. But there are some things that need to remain as firm boundaries, and that's one of them. Chris licks him then, all the way up the thick shaft to the tip of his cock, runs his tongue around the head. Hears JC gasp softly, feels the shift of muscle and skin beneath his hand. JC's skin is slick with sweat. "Pierced, though, maybe." He licks again, teases the tiny slit at the tip with his tongue, licking away the liquid pearling up. "Whatcha think, C? Get you a PA, and I could play with the ring, you could feel it slide back and forth inside you."

"Jesus, Chris." He chokes the words out, fingers scratching against the sheets. Chris grins up at him and licks again, then straddles JC's legs before sucking his cock into his mouth. It's layers of flavors spread across his tongue now, the lingering metal of blood, the salt of JC's skin, the bitter taste of semen. Another choked sound rings in his ears and then it's nothing but the hard scrabbling of JC's fingers in his hair, and heat and sex in his mouth.

It's fast and hard, the way they both like it. He sucks, swallows, then relaxes so JC can thrust at will, quick, deep strokes driving upward, into his mouth, down his throat. Chris hums and feels the vibrations trapped within his own throat, feels them fizz into his blood. He likes the tugs on his hair and the scrape of nails against his scalp; likes the way JC's cock hits against the back of his throat. It's a quick flash of constriction, his airway cut off then opened again, and it's dizzying, exhilarating. He flings the razor away so he can hold onto sweatslicked skin, fingers pressing hard against jutting hipbones. He's hard and aching behind his jeans, and the urge is there to let go, jack off while he sucks JC. But there's something about delayed gratification, too, and the ache of arousal is a sweet one, making his blood fiery hot, molten in his veins.

There's nothing but slick skin to hang onto when JC shouts wordlessly and arches up, hips working hard, pumping himself into Chris' eager mouth. Black spots swim in his vision when JC holds the position, dick swelling before he comes, thick and saltbitter. Chris swallows, swallows again, shudders when JC shifts enough for air to trickle in, sweet and cool. He shifts, panting, wiping at his mouth. "God. _God_, C."

"You-" JC's still trembling beneath him, muscles quivering with aftershocks. He draws his fingertips around still-swollen nipples, traces over the cuts that probably still sting. "You, Chris." He swallows roughly and reaches out, pointing. "Want to see you."

It won't take much. Chris nods and reaches for his jeans, tugs until the buttons give, the fabric worn and soft, easy to pull open. There's nothing beneath, just him, and he grins at the sharp sound JC makes. "Freeballin' just for you," he says before reaching for himself.

He's so ready, arousal shimmering through him, hunger biting into him fierce and hot like a razor blade. Quick, hard strokes; nothing fancy, just enough to get him off, to feel that bite all through him. It starts as a low buzz, his skin tingling and prickling as sensation grows, spreads, streaks through him. JC reaches up and pinches one his nipples hard, so hard, and Chris shouts as orgasm tears through him, brighthot sparkles of pleasure that make his vision go spotty, make his body shudder and shiver with each spark.

Afterward, when he can breathe again, when his body isn't trembling and shaking any more, Chris leans over JC and licks him slowly, thoroughly, from his neck to his cock. Each stroke of his tongue makes JC shiver beneath him, makes him roll upward into the sensation. He tastes like blood, sweat and come, skin tacky and sticky where everything spilled, spread, dried a bit. Chris licks him clean, lapping at the small puddles, biting here and there until JC alternates between grabbing at his head and laughing, and shuddering against him.

"Enough, you freak," he laughs, finally, pushing, and Chris bites once more at the cut around his navel before shifting off him.

"So?" He asks, turning onto his side to face JC. One cut across his collarbone is deeper than the others, and Chris presses a kiss to it, licking gently. It's not bleeding any more - none of them are - but JC hisses softly, arching forward. Chris licks again, suckles, then backs away.

"Different," JC says softly, curling toward Chris. "I don't know. I liked it, but. I dunno. It was a rush."

"Yeah." It was. A rush on both sides, actually. Chris isn't sure he's comfortable with how he felt, either. Too much role reversal, not enough prep beforehand. He licks his lips, remembers the slickhot taste of JC there, blood and sweat. "Different," he says finally, shoving at his jeans until they're off and he can settle against JC. "Do you-want to do it again?" He asks softly, not entirely sure he wants the answer. There's a long stretch of silence, then JC moves against him.

"Maybe. Some time. Not right away." A gentle kiss against his mouth, JC's lips warm and soft and damp. "I like it better when you're on the receiving end," he whispers, licking the words into Chris' mouth.

"Yes," he whispers back, letting JC's mouth swallow the word, and the soft sighs that follow.

~fin~

 


End file.
